The lobby was eerily quiet. Liam cleared his throat. “Andrea, perhaps I should just—”
“It’s fine, thanks, Liam.”
I racked my brain for other ways to say it. I knew my accent wasn’tthatbad… Maybe she was just one of those French people who found British people trying to speak their language really annoying.
She stared at me. I stared back. Liam cleared his throat and stood there, motionless.
I reached for my phone to be sure and began to type.Please, Google Translate, don’t let medown.
“Madame,” she said carefully, “ce n’est pas… approprié.”
I frowned. “Mais—oui. Je voudrais m’introduire… avec Monsieur von Roth.”
The silence thickened.
“Do you mean… you’re the party with Mr. Roth, ma’am?”
“Oui… bien sûr. Monsieur Roth.” At last. How had that been so confusing to her?
“Oh! My apologies, ma’am.” She breathed out heavily, putting a hand on her chest. “The group reservation, correct? We’ve had a few last-minute adjustments regarding the suite configuration. I’ll just pull up the details for you.”
So we were back to English then. Oh well. At least I was respectful enough to try. Perhaps now Bonnie would adjust what she thought of me.
The woman behind the desk began tapping on her keyboard. Liam shifted on his feet next to me and coughed lightly, his eyes seemingly fixed on a rather unremarkable framed certificate about hygiene standards behind the desk.
“Right, thank you.” That was weird. I glanced down at my phone, still open on the Translate app. The screen blinked up helpfully:
introduire (verb):
1. toinsert
2. to putinside
—usage: introduire quelque chose ensoi
My stomach dropped.
Oh God. No.
No, no, no.
I’d just told her—and anyone else who was listening—I wanted to insert Liam Roth.
Inside me.
Liam was still staring at the hygiene certificate.
I locked the screen and shoved the phone in my bag quickly, wishing I’d never been born. Had Ben heard what I’d said? Had Dex? Oh no, hadBonnie? From the look on her face, it was hard to tell. Hopefully, none of them could speak French either.
Liam hadn’t even blinked. Hopefully, he thought “introduire” really did have something to do with introductions. Or maybe a wine region.
“Ah, here it is, Madame, Monsieur.” The receptionist lifted her chin, smiling as if guests loudly declared their intimate intentions at check-in every day.
“We’re fully booked, of course, with the Stewart wedding at the château, but we’ve moved some things around and…” She clasped her hands in front of her. “We are very pleased to offer you one of our royal suites. It’s on the top floor of the historic wing, with a private salon and views across the Chantilly Forest. Our signature king bed—not a twin configuration. We assumed this would be preferable for a party such as yours. And I’ve already had a late lunch sent up, Monsieur Roth, as you requested.”
Onebed?
My stomach clenched. This had to be a mistake. We hadn’t discussed anything like this. Even the adjoining suites at the Radcliffe had felt dangerously close, so much so that for a few reckless moments I’d managed to forget entirely what Liam was doing back in London.
